What About Loyalty

Chapter 1

Football practice at my school always goes the same: rundown of the plays, water breaks, more rundown of the plays, then practice is over.

I'm sure many of you are wondering why in the hell am I starting this story off with how football practice at my school goes? Here's my answer: I'm part of the football team... technically. I don't play any position on the field. I'm actually the water boy, meaning I serve water to the players during water breaks.

After reading this over, I realized I forgot to introduce myself. I'm such a dumbass. Here goes; my name is Harvey Specter. I'm a senior in high school and let me tell you, I'll be glad when I get out of here.

I could tell you more, but I'll just begin my story on the days I felt were followed by the worst weeks of my life.

It was the football team's water break. As I sat on a bench, I saw George, Marvin, and Bruce, who is the team captain, standing near my bench. As I was sitting down, I poured a cup of water for myself and drank as I heard them talk.

"Man, that was a great run," said George.

"Don't get relieved yet," Marvin warned. "We still got about thirty minutes of practice left after this."

"Either way, I'm still thirsty," Bruce replied before turning near my direction and shouting, "Hey, water boy! C'mere!"

Did I mention I wasn't far away enough to actually have him shout like that? Nevertheless, I grabbed the cups and walked towards Bruce and the others, my back aching because of me using the water canister as a knapsack. "What's up?" I casually greeted.

"We want some drink," Marvin answered. I took three cups, filled each one with water, then gave a cup to each player.

"Thanks, man," said George.

"No prob," I replied. I turned to walk away, but because I had a question burning up in my brain, I quickly turned back to ask it before I forgot.

It took all the courage I had to finally get the balls to ask, "I've been the team's water boy since freshman year, correct?"

"Sounds about right," Marvin replied. "Why?"

"Well, I was wondering if... uh, if maybe you could..." You probably would have had a blast seeing me literally sweat and shake. That's how nervous I was.

"We could what?" Bruce wanted to know.

"I'm gettin' there," I sais. "If you... do-you-think-I-can-have-a-spot-on-the-team-this-year?" You couldn't believe how fast I said that. You would have thought I was speaking another language.

Bruce perfectly understood the question though. However, I saw him shaking his head with a dirty look on his face. "You must be outta your damn mind," he started to tell me, "if you think you're gonna-" George elbowed Bruce in the ribs before the latter could finish his sentence.

"Bruce," George said with gritted teeth. "Be cool." In case you're wondering why a football jock would defend me, let me explain myself. George is a good friend of mine; we go way back since middle school. He definitely had bigger balls then I do and wasn't afraid to express it. Also, he's extremely handsome, with neat black hair and cheekbones girls found irresistible for some reason. In fact, he's so attractive that if I weren't straight, I'd totally fall in love with him.

Anyway, after George told Bruce to take it easy on me, Bruce's demeanor changed. "Fine," he said after sighing. "I'll talk to coach for you, okay?"

"Thanks," I replied, relieved he'd changed his mind.

"Whatever. I gotta go wash out my mouthguard. One of the tackles who sacked me managed to make me eat grass." With that, he and Marvin walked to the bathroom, leaving me and George alone to talk.

"Thanks for that, Georgy," I thanked him.

"Not a problem," George replied. "though I do have a feeling Bruce isn't gonna talk to the coach."

"Maybe, but you never know." After I said this, the cringing screech that is the coach's whistle sounded, signaling that intermission was over. George ran back to the field while I went back to my bench.